


Practical Uses for Impractical Skills

by dumbkili



Series: we make a good team [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Family, Frisk Uses Sign Language, Learning Magic, Magic, Magic-Users, More characters to be added, Past Child Abuse, Post-Pacifist Route, References to canonical suicide, Selectively Mute Frisk, Sharing a Body, Spoilers - No Mercy Route, Spoilers - Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-08 20:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5511626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbkili/pseuds/dumbkili
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[But I already learned about battle magic], they sign, confused. [Attack and defense].</p>
<p>“My dear, if that were the only kind of magic in existence, the practice of it would have died out long before now,” says Toriel, putting the milk into the refrigerator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. can you even call this a movie, we didn't even make popcorn

**Author's Note:**

> wwwwelcome back to the Trash AU Zone i'll be your guide..........
> 
> also if you havent read the first fic in this series, 'Let's See What We Can Do', you're gonna be very lost and u should go read that one first

Summer is a nice season. It’s warm and lazy and comforting; the pressure of school has fallen away and all that’s left is nice weather, good company, and sweet freedom. Chara has always loved summer. Frisk has always considered themself more of a winter person. Still, even Frisk can’t deny that this summer is shaping up to be  _ beautiful _ . 

 

It’s a lazy Wednesday afternoon. Toriel is out on a shopping trip. She’s very recently started letting Frisk stay alone in the house, and it only takes a little of Chara’s prodding to get them to take advantage of the rare (and relative) solitude.

 

Frisk gets everything ready. They drag the big fluffy comforter from their bed down the stairs and into the basement, where the washer-dryer is. They stuff it into the dryer section and set it to spin-dry on the highest temperature for ten minutes. Then they go back upstairs and into the kitchen. They pull out a pitcher of homemade lemonade from the fridge and pour it into a big glass, because Chara likes lemonade. Then they try to find where Toriel has stashed the poptarts, because they like poptarts. 

 

**Top shelf in the cabinet above the sink,** Chara supplies helpfully. Frisk opens the cabinet and sure enough, they can see the box, way at the top.

 

_ Thanks! How did you know? _

 

Chara sounds only a tiny bit uncomfortable when they say,  **That’s where she always used to keep the extra pie, before.**

 

Frisk doesn’t press, just sends another little wave of gratitude out into the headspace and looks around for a stepstool to stand on. They can’t quite reach the box on their own. It’s a bit of a dilemma. They  _ could _ drag a chair over from the kitchen table, but the memory of their concussion from late last year flashes across their mind and they decide that they don’t want to risk slipping and hitting their head again. Chara snorts, amused.

 

**Hey, who ever said that you have no self preservation?** they tease. Frisk rolls their eyes.

 

_ You. Frequently. _

 

**True,** Chara allows.  **Lemme try something.** They do the mental equivalent of grabby hands (there’s no other way to describe it) and Frisk lets them take control. With barely a thought, their weapon, the strange blood-red sword inherited from Asriel, glows to life in their hands. It’s really a beautiful thing, Frisk has to admit. The magical metal is smooth and faultless, and the edge is so sharp that it’s almost invisible. The balance is absolutely perfect, and the handle feels just like worn leather (even though it isn’t, really). It’s truly a masterpiece.

 

_ Aaaaand…. You’re using it to grab poptarts, _ sighs Frisk, as Chara sticks Frisk’s tongue out between their teeth and reaches the sword up to hook on a corner of the box. After only a couple seconds of maneuvering, the box tilts over the edge of the shelf and falls neatly into Chara’s outstretched hand. 

 

**Haha, nice,** they say, twirling the sword a couple of times.  **Looks like this old thing is good for more than just kicking ass, huh?**

 

_ Yeah, I guess, _ says Frisk, staring at the poptarts longingly.  _ Give me back my hands so I can eat, you dweeb _ .

 

**You got it,** Chara responds easily, tossing their sword into the air and letting it disappear as it falls. They back off and Frisk flexes their fingers a few times, before grabbing the box and the lemonade and marching back into the living room. They flip through Toriel’s collection of DVDs, which has built up considerably since they all came to the surface. 

 

_ Which one? _

 

Today is movie day. In between all the falling, living with monsters, and being dead, plus whatever happened to them on the surface that they  _ still _ won’t talk about, Chara hasn’t had many opportunities to watch human movies. Frisk’s past, which Chara still hasn’t wheedled out of them either, also means that they’re not exactly up to speed with film history. The two of them have taken it upon themselves to fill the gaps in their upbringing. 

 

Last week Frisk picked out a movie that they  _ know _ is a classic, but that they had never had a chance to watch before.  _ The Little Mermaid. _ A princess who cannot speak. They liked it a lot. Chara had mostly tolerated it. This week, it’s Chara’s turn to pick, and they sure are taking their sweet time. It takes a couple minutes of flicking through the DVDs, reading the titles quietly, considering some and outright rejecting others, before Chara makes a decision. 

 

**This,** they say. Frisk points to the one they’ve selected, just to make sure it’s the right one.  **Yeah, that one. Looks cool. I’ve heard some good things.**

 

_ Hmm, _ says Frisk, pulling the DVD out of its sleeve and looking at the art on it. There’s a lot going on.  _ Star Wars: A New Hope? It sounds familiar, yeah. _ Honestly, they’ve never really had an opportunity to pay much attention to these things. Shrugging slightly, they feed the DVD into the player and patiently wait until the menu screen shows up. Before they can click play, however, the dryer beeps downstairs and they remember their blanket. 

 

_ Oh yeah! _ they think, and quickly pad downstairs, dragging the thick comforter out of the machine and draping it over their shoulder like an extremely warm, fluffy cape. They practically disappear underneath it. They giggle quietly, imagining how ridiculous they look. Chara gives the distinct impression of rolling their eyes in exasperation. but Frisk ignores them and goes back upstairs, sinking onto the soft couch cushions they’ve laid on the floor and hitting play on the movie. 

 

Right from the very first second, as blue words and then yellow ones appear on the screen, Chara is entranced. Sure, the special effects are a little corny but the  _ story… _ Frisk quietly eats their poptarts and lets Chara enjoy themselves, which is a very rare thing to see. They both watch as the story unfolds, and as more and more characters get introduced, Frisk gets sucked in too. The Dark Side and the Light… the both of them know it isn’t that simple, but  _ wow _ , what if it could be? 

 

Toriel gets home soon after the credits roll and makes tsking sounds as she takes in Frisk, buzzing from the sugary lemonade and poptarts, jumping all around her signing frantically about  _ the Force _ and  _ Jedi _ and  _ Mom can I please watch the next movie please please please? _ She notices, in the very back corner of her mind, that Frisk is doing that thing again- where they nearly sign the word for ‘we’ in an aborted motion before fixing it to a singular pronoun instead.

 

[Mom! Please?] they repeat, looking up at her with pleading eyes.

 

**C’mon, c’mon, you’ve GOT to have better puppy eyes than** **_that_ ** **,** says Chara exasperatedly, but it’s too late anyway. Toriel is already shaking her head, although she is smiling in amusement.

 

“I think that was quite enough TV for one day, dear,” she says, moving into the kitchen to place her shopping bags on the table and counters. “Help me put these away, won’t you?”

 

Frisk huffs out a big sigh but goes to help anyway. They always try their best to be helpful, after all. To be anything less would seem… ungrateful. At least, that’s how they feel. They know that Chara feels the same way, because they never protest against Frisk doing whatever they can to make the house cleaner, or Toriel’s life easier. As they put the groceries away- spices in the left hand cabinet, cereals in the pantry, and so on- Toriel picks up the empty poptart box and lemonade glass from the living room. 

 

“How did you find this, my child?” she asks with some confusion. “I distinctly remember putting it somewhere you could not reach.”

 

Frisk shrugs one shoulder, their hands full with a bag of rice. Chara has the decency to be a tiny bit ashamed. Toriel clucks her tongue again, a knowing look in her eye. 

 

“You would not have happened to use your magic to retrieve it, would you?” Frisk blushes slightly and Toriel sighs, quickly dismantling the now-empty box and putting it into the recycling. “Frisk, while I am happy that you are becoming more confident with your abilities,” she begins, and Chara sighs.

 

**Oh, great, a lecture. I just wanted to watch Star Wars.**

 

“I am not sure that you should be using your, um, _defensive_ _magic_ for simple household tasks,” Toriel continues. “Or did you feel threatened by a cardboard box?” Chara snorts at the sarcasm in her tone, so faint that it can barely be detected.

 

**Busted, F,** they say, and Frisk frowns internally at them.

 

_ You did that, _ they point out.

 

**Ha, well, Mom doesn’t know that. She said defensive magic- she’s never even seen my attack.** Chara sounds a little bothered, but only for a second. They bounce back to being amused so quickly that Frisk thinks they might have imagined the switch. **Anyway.** **Better face the music!**

 

Frisk puts the rice on the counter and tries to look appropriately remorseful. [Sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have done that.]  _ I can’t believe I’m doing this for you. _

 

“I am not angry, my child!” Toriel exclaims in surprise. “I simply meant that maybe it is time that  _ I  _ was given a chance to teach you some magic, in a proper setting.” Her warm golden-brown eyes narrow the slightest fraction, and Frisk knows she’s thinking about all of those under-the-table magic lessons they’d gotten from their friends last fall. They still feel bad about keeping that from her. 

 

[But I already learned about battle magic], they sign, confused. [Attack and defense].

 

“My dear, if that were the only kind of magic in existence, the practice of it would have died out long before now,” says Toriel, putting the milk into the refrigerator. Then she balls up the empty plastic bags and puts them under the sink to be reused later. “My cooking magic, for example, is not the same as the magic I use when I fight. It is less dangerous, for one thing, and is much more adaptable.” Frisk nods, remembering how the fireplace in Toriel’s old home in the Ruins was only pleasantly warm. They could put their hand inside and not get hurt, but her fire magic when she attacked them, just a little while later… That had burned.

 

**...Let’s not focus on that, please.**

 

[You can teach me how to do that?] Frisk asks excitedly. They’ve always wanted to learn how to do Toriel’s cooking magic. It looks so cool!

 

Toriel chuckles. “Well, maybe not that  _ exactly _ , but… I think I may be able to teach you how to convert your magic into a less… violence-oriented form.” She brushes her hands off on her dress and looks around the kitchen for a moment. “Ah! Here. Do you see that, on top of the cabinet?” Frisk follows her pointing, slightly clawed hand to the moth trap placed on the very top of a cabinet. It’s at least seven feet above the ground- small potatoes for Toriel, but a mountain for Frisk. They nod slightly, and Toriel smiles. “I would like you to get it for me.”

 

**Oh, she’s** **_got_ ** **to be kidding.**

 

Some of Frisk and Chara’s combined disbelief must show on Frisk’s face, because Toriel giggles a little bit. 

 

“Believe me, child, it is not as impossible as you think it is.” Then she reaches out one hand and makes a sharp pulling motion towards herself, almost like the ASL gesture for  _ want _ . A thin rope of her magical fire materializes, wrapped around both her clenched fist and the moth trap. With another tug, the trap falls from the cabinet and snaps back on the rope, catapulting right into Toriel’s free hand. The fire fades away and Toriel holds up the trap, showing that the cardboard isn’t even singed, just smoking slightly. “See?” she says, then walks over and places the moth trap back on top of the cabinet, far out of reach.

 

**Frisk, close your mouth before you start catching flies,** says Chara, but they’re impressed too. 

 

_ You’ve never seen her do this before? _ Frisk asks. Chara gives the impression of shrugging a little bit.

 

**I didn’t really pay attention for the first few weeks. And after that… I was thinking about other stuff.**

 

_ Oh. _

 

“Do you want to try?” Toriel asks. Frisk nods instantly, the familiar feeling of determination filling their body. Not the stuff Alphys would label ‘DT’- not Determination with a capital D, the power and desire to bring themselves backwards in time- but rather, a simple need to prove themselves to Toriel. They can do this. They managed to summon their own personal weapon within a week of using magic for the first time. They can do this. 

 

They close their eyes, curling their fingers in front of their chest and drawing out the power of their SOUL. They’re not sure what exactly it is they’re supposed to do, so they just fling out a desire for the moth trap to come to them and hope that it’s enough. It’s...not quite enough. They’re still jittery and amped up on all the sugar that they’ve had today, and the magic keeps slipping through their fingers to fall, useless and dead, on the floor. They keep trying, steadying themselves and going slowly, imagining the moth trap moving from the cabinet and into their hands (although they’re not sure how it’s supposed to get there). It feels like nothing is happening, so they push a little harder. The magic finally takes hold and springs forward with purpose. Frisk proudly pops open their eyes, ready to receive their prize.

 

But nothing happens.

 

All they’ve managed to do is summon their flowers, their beautiful, useless, life saving flowers. Toriel gives a quiet little gasp as she looks at the cluster of golden flowers sprouting up from the kitchen tiles, and Frisk sighs. The flowers dissolve on their own.

 

**Tough break.**

 

Toriel places a furry hand on their shoulder. “Do not be worried that you cannot do it on the first try. Complicated magic takes work to master, and it takes time.” She kisses their forehead. “Try not to despair that your magical ability does not match that of an old experienced woman like myself.”

 

[Okay], agrees Frisk, but they’re still disappointed. Toriel sets about making dinner (nothing sweet tonight, because Frisk has already maxed out their sugar intake for the day) and Frisk sits down at the table, swinging their legs absently. 

 

**Hey. I’ve been thinking.**

 

_ About what? Magic? _

 

**No, dummy! Star Wars!**

 

_ Oh. How silly of me. _

 

**Do you think Ben Kenobi meant for Darth Vader to kill him?**

 

Frisk frowns at the wood grain of the table.  _ What? Of course he didn’t! It was an accident. He was too slow. Wasn’t he? _

 

**I don’t think it was. I’m not sure, though.**

 

_ Well, we’ll just have to watch the next movie to be sure. I’ll pick it next time we have a movie day, since it’s my turn. _

  
Chara doesn’t reply in words, but the headspace fills with such a rush of gratitude that Frisk gets the message loud and clear.


	2. two is company, and the third one isn't here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *you tell a joke about a kid who ate a pie with their bare hands.
> 
> *you tell a joke about a kid who slept in the soil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:
> 
> -references to self-harm  
> -self-hate  
> -very vague references to past child abuse  
> -discussion of a canonical suicide
> 
> it's from Chara's POV uhhhhh yeah

Here’s a fun secret that nobody- not even Frisk- knows: Chara hates themself. Like, really deep, visceral hate. Sure, they hate other things, like school and homework and almost all the humans they’ve ever known, but their hatred for themself tops everything. They’re honestly not sure how Frisk hasn’t noticed by now.

 

Asriel had noticed. He’d seen the way Chara curled in on themself, avoided mirrors, armored their arms and legs in bright bandaids in every color but red, and he’d done something about it. He’d tried to keep them busy. The magic lessons had been a fun diversion, a harmless secret between siblings that lit up the darkness of their bedroom in green and red magic like a celebration. A respite from their own brain. 

 

But it hadn’t been enough. Obviously. Because here they are now, hunkered down in Frisk’s head, latched onto their SOUL like a parasite. And there isn’t a day that dawns where they don’t hate themselves for it. They’re  _ infecting _ Frisk, they’re weighing them down, holding them back- Frisk is so  _ good _ and Chara just  _ isn’t _ . 

 

They had killed themself. They’d eaten those buttercups, and they had died. Intentionally. It wasn’t up for debate. But they’d thought they had been doing something  _ good _ , for monsterkind, at least. If a few humans- including themself- had to die so that an entire  _ species _ could breathe free… would that really have been so terrible of a price to pay? 

 

They had thought that all humans were evil. Irredeemable. Unsavable. They’d never seen a human that they truly believed to be good- not even when they looked in the mirror. So dying really hadn’t seemed so bad, especially since Asriel had promised to absorb their SOUL and free  _ everyone _ … Then things had gotten a little carried away. Humanity had shown its true colors yet again. And Chara had been scattered as Asriel’s dust was scattered, formless until they woke up in Frisk’s head.

 

And Frisk… was  _ good. _ They really were, even when Chara made them kill. They were good, and they still are, and they probably always will be.

 

_ Chara?  _

 

They snap themself out of the haze they’ve been in, refocusing through Frisk’s eyes.  **Yeah?**

 

_ Do you want to watch Star Wars? Mom said we could. _

 

Toriel didn’t say that. Toriel did not use a plural pronoun. Chara can imagine that she probably said something like “Of course you can, Frisk,” or “Certainly, my child.” Never  _ Frisk and Chara _ . Never  _ my children _ . They tell themself to stop being so bitter. They got themself into this mess, and there’s nobody else to blame. 

 

**Sure, F. That sounds great.** They try to project some positive emotions, like the feeling of a reassuring smile or a head nod. Frisk eagerly starts getting ready, going through their pre-movie ritual so fast you’d almost think they were being timed. They grab lemonade for Chara and a slice of leftover pie for themselves and don’t even bother heating up their blanket (it’s too hot outside, anyway). In just a few minutes, the DVD is starting to play.

 

Chara hates themself, but they do not hate Star Wars. The story is incredible- all of this talk about  _ choosing  _ to be good rather than evil, about actively moving towards the light… Chara loves it. They love the idea that it’s possible to choose what to be. They’ve never considered that morality might be fluid. It’s stupid, but they can’t help getting excited about it.

 

They can vaguely taste the pie that Frisk is eating. They’re not even using a plate, just their hands. Chara tries to wash away the sensory memories with lemonade, but they keep coming back. 

 

The movie ends much too quickly, and Frisk is tired. Chara isn’t- not yet at least- so they tell Frisk to just go to bed. They can pull an all-nighter no problem. They kind of have to do it a lot. It’s a price that they have to be willing to pay for the privilege of living in Frisk’s head. They take a backseat, not really paying attention as Frisk kisses Toriel goodnight and goes upstairs to brush their teeth and put on their pajamas. They are only vaguely aware of Frisk trying to retrieve their toothpaste by magic, and failing once again. They don’t even realize Frisk is in bed until they hear a tiny little  _ Goodnight, Chara. _

 

**Oh. Goodnight, Frisk.**

 

Then it’s just them and their thoughts. Two forces which have never got along well. They don’t even have anything to look at because Frisk’s damn eyes are closed, so they go back to The Place just to have something to  _ do. _

 

The Place isn’t very interesting. It’s all scrubland and brown sky and the smell of buttercups on the wind. It’s the last piece of Chara’s SOUL, battered and shattered and vacuum-sealed onto Frisk’s. A leech. The Place isn’t even a proper place at all- it’s just somewhere to imagine being, so that Chara isn’t staring at the inside of Frisk’s eyelids for eight hours (sometimes more). They remember when Frisk had shown up here a few months ago, right after they’d… Well. The point is that Frisk can get in, apparently, so their little private Place isn’t  _ really _ as private as they’d first thought. But hey, it’s something. 

 

As soon as they ‘arrive’, Chara looks down at their body. This is the only place they can see it. It’s almost…  _ weird _ to see their own pale, scratched up arms rather than Frisk’s smooth brown ones. They tug on the hem of their sweater absently. Some of the thread is coming loose. Then they stick their hands in their pockets and start walking.

 

They pass by the pretend-Flowey that grows smack in the middle of the Place. They don’t know why he’s here, but they somehow can’t get him to go away. They used to talk to him, sometimes, pretending he was Asriel, but they don’t really do that anymore. He’s no more Asriel than they are.

 

“ **Hey bro,** ” they mutter. His doll-still face doesn’t so much as twitch. They roll their eyes and keep walking. “ **Nice to see you too, I guess.** ”

 

There’s a mountain visible on the horizon. Chara starts walking towards it, even though they know it is impossible to get to. They don’t know why it’s even there; much like Flowey, it just seems to show up whenever they come here. It’s kind of annoying. Yet here they are, walking towards it. 

 

They’re not sure how long they’ve been walking. The mountain does not seem to be any closer than when they started, but when they look behind themself, Flowey is out of sight. Their feet don’t hurt, and they’re not tired, which might have something to do with the fact that they do not, technically speaking, exist. Still, out of pure lack of anything better to do, they press on. The brown sky remains unchanged, a sepia colored backdrop to the gray-green world around them. There is no sun here, but after living in the Underground (and then dying there), Chara is used to that. Their sneakers scuff against the dirt, which is a fine and colorless as dust. 

 

_ No- _

 

“ **What?** ” Chara pulls up short, spinning around on the spot and searching for the source of the voice. It had sounded like Frisk’s thoughts but… they can’t see Frisk anywhere. “ **Frisk?** ”

 

_ -no, please, I’m SORRY- _

 

“ **Frisk, cut the crap. If you’re here, come on out.** ” Chara’s trying to sound confident and only mildly pissed off, but the truth is that if they had a heart it would be pounding. Frisk-  _ if _ it’s Frisk- sounds really,  _ really _ scared. Chara hasn’t ever heard their thoughts this jumbled before. 

 

_ Mama, stop! _ shrieks Frisk, and  _ that’s _ what sets Chara running, because if Frisk is yelling  _ that _ , it can’t be good. Their feet pound against the dead ground of the Place, creating a grey dust cloud that rises up behind them, the only feature in the barren wasteland. The more they run towards the mountain, the louder Frisk’s voice becomes. It’s actually getting closer now, and Chara can feel someone’s heart- probably not theirs- racing wildly. 

 

They reach the mountain in less time than they realistically should have. It looms above them, much taller than the real Mt. Ebott, and Chara feels dizzy. Still, Frisk is still yelling somewhere nearby, their thoughts stuttering like they’re crying, so Chara pushes on. 

 

“ **I swear, when I find what’s doing this I’m gonna** **_kill it_ ** **, I’m gonna skin it, I’ll** **_dust it_ ** ,” Chara hisses quietly, pushing aside a prickly, thorny branch. As they try to step past it, it snaps back at them sharply. Surprised, they catch the blow in their chest and fall backwards with a grunt. They expect to hit the ground within a second, but they don’t. They just keep falling, out of the Place and into the loose conglomeration of consciousness that is the headspace. They’re still falling down, however, deep down into a place that they’ve never been in before. They think it belongs to Frisk. It’s very dark.

 

Someone is sobbing.

 

“ **Frisk?** ” Chara stands up, even though they’re not sure what they’re even standing  _ on _ . There is literally nothing here.  **If this is Frisk’s Place, they need to hire a decorator** , Chara thinks to themself. The crying continues, so Chara walks forward, more cautiously now, wishing that they didn’t need Frisk in order to summon a weapon. A sword- however imaginary it would be- would be really useful right now. “ **Hello?** ”

 

Out of the darkness, a figure appears, doubled over but still standing, clutching their stomach and pressing one hand tight against their mouth to stifle their own sobs. It’s not working. Chara can feel anger simmering low in their gut, and they’re not entirely sure why. They approach slowly, clearing their throat to let Frisk- and it  _ is  _ Frisk, they can tell from the color of the sweater- know that they’re there. Frisk jumps just about a foot in the air and at least two to the left, turning to look at Chara with puffy, reddened eyes.

 

_ I’m dreaming. _

 

“ **Probably,** ” agrees Chara. There’s the pale red outline of a hand on Frisk’s cheek. “ **Are you… okay?** ”

 

Instead of replying with words, Frisk just shakes their head quickly and darts forward, wrapping their arms around Chara’s skinny pretend-body and burying their face in Chara’s shoulder. Chara blinks, and spits out a mouthful of Frisk’s hair. 

 

“ **Uh. I guess. We’re doing this now?** ” They’re not sure what to do with their arms. They could pat Frisk’s shoulder- is that what people do when they hug? They haven’t hugged anyone in literally years- but the angle is kind of awkward from the way Frisk has them pinned. “ **Ugh, when did you get so tall?** ” Chara mutters, trying to maneuver their chin to rest on top of Frisk’s head. It’s difficult. “ **Didn’t we use to be the same height?** ”

 

_ It’s been six months since I saw you last, _ Frisk points out quietly.  _ Haven’t you noticed I’ve grown? _

 

“ **Honestly, no,** ” says Chara, shrugging slightly. Frisk huffs and turns their face further into Chara’s sweater. Chara gives up figuring out what to do with their hands and just focuses on staying calm and collected, because they know Frisk can feel it. “ **Wanna talk about it?** ”

 

_ Not really _ .

 

“ **Hey, that’s fair. I get that.** ” They shift their weight slightly to get comfortable and Frisk starts to pull back, startled by the motion. “ **No, hey, it’s okay,** ” Chara assures them. “ **You can… do that… for as long as you need to.** ” Frisk slowly moves back to where they were, and Chara laughs slightly. “ **Oh, man, you and Asriel really** **_are_ ** **so much alike… such crybabies…** ”

 

_ The two of you have an odd habit of comparing each other to me, _ replies Frisk, and they don’t sound so shaky anymore. Chara takes this as a positive. 

 

“ **Ha, yeah, well...you know…”** says Chara vaguely. They trail off, and Frisk lets it go. There’s another few seconds of silence before Frisk pulls out of the hug for real this time, rubbing the last of their tears away and running their fingers through their hair a few times, even though it doesn’t really matter, because this is still a dream.

 

_ Um. Thank you, _ they say, with their eyes cast down. Chara shrugs again. 

 

“ **No biggie.** ”

 

_ I just… I just really want to be able to do this magic Toriel’s teaching us. And it’s been- it’s been a while. And I still can’t. So I was just frustrated, I guess. And that sort of… snowballed into a bad dream about….something else. _

 

Chara nods. “ **We’ve all got a ‘something else’, Frisk. I understand.** ” They scratch at one of their band-aids absently. “ **Ours might be similar.** ” Frisk is silent for a moment and Chara winces internally. Overshare. Backtrack, fast. “ **Anyway, let’s talk about Star Wars.** ” Smooth. Good. Nice.

 

Frisk cracks a tiny smile.  _ What about it? _

 

“ **Uh, like,** **_everything_ ** **!** ” Chara exclaims, sitting down cross legged in the black void and yanking Frisk down to join them. “ **Ben is like, a ghost now, how crazy is that?!** ”

 

_ Finally, media you can relate to, _ says Frisk dryly, and they suddenly get a panicked look like they think they’ve said something incredibly offensive, but Chara only laughs. 

 

“ **I know! It’s great!** ” They nudge Frisk gently with one elbow. “ **Hey, don’t get that look. If the two of us can’t joke about dying, who can?** ”

 

_ You’re awfully morbid for a ten-year old, _ Frisk says innocently, and Chara cries out in indignation.

 

“ **Ten? Ten?! Frisk!** ” They press a hand against their empty chest. “ **You wound me.** ”

 

The rest of the night is passed in heated debate over how old Chara actually is ( _ You look ten! _ “ **That isn’t even the age I was! And when you factor in the extra years-** ”) and about the pros and cons of  _ The Empire Strikes Back.  _ By the time Frisk is forced to exit whatever Place they’re in and open their eyes, Chara has decided on two things:

 

#1: They are never letting Frisk have a nightmare again.

#2. Ben Kenobi  _ did _ mean to die, because he knew that he could do more good as a dead man than a living one.

  
Both of these thoughts are comforting, in their own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry i didnt update yesterday! i wanted to, but christmas eve is always so hectic oh gosh.. i hope those who celebrate it had a wonderful christmas!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! merry cri s is


	3. get in, loser, we're going shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk has a Good Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:
> 
> -vague references to past child abuse

When Frisk wakes up, they lie in bed for a few minutes, just staring up at their ceiling. They can’t decide if what happened was a dream or not. Chara’s quiet, but they always are this early in the morning. They’ve probably gone to sleep, since they were awake all night. Come to think of it, so was Frisk. They rub their eyes tiredly. It feels like they only got a few hours of sleep before Chara had…

 

Did that even happen? They’re not sure, and there’s nobody to ask. It seems like something that they would do- create a fake Chara to hug them after they’d been so scared by- by something. But talking about Star Wars afterwards? That seems like something the actual Chara would do. 

 

_ Ugh. _ Frisk hauls themself out of bed and winces as the joints around their knees ache faintly. They’re positive that they’re too young for that to be happening, but they also know that the fall from Mt. Ebott probably didn’t do their body any favors. Monster food can only go so far to repair damage.  _ Maybe I should talk to someone about that,  _ they think, but deep down they know they’re never going to. Asking for help is not really in their nature, unless they’re literally about to die. 

 

They’re old enough to know that usually, nobody will answer.

 

Frisk stumbles down the hall to the bathroom, squinting until their eyes are nearly closed against the bright light. They take a moment to look at themself in the mirror, and scrunch up their face reflexively. Their short hair is poofy and frizzy at once, rising up around their head like a brown halo. Their sleep shirt, which is decorated with a cute space design, is wrinkled and one sleeve is rucked up awkwardly. They’ve got bags under their eyes and an imprint on their cheek from the bedsheet. They rub that side of their face absently. That had been where they’d been slapped, in their dream. 

 

_ Maybe I shouldn’t think about that _ .

 

Frisk contemplates the effort it would take to reach up and get their toothpaste from the the cabinet. Then they contemplate the repercussions of just not brushing their teeth this morning. They run their tongue over their teeth and wrinkle their nose at the taste and texture.  _ Nope. Definitely gotta do it. _ They sigh and halfheartedly try to do it with magic. They’re so out of it that the only result is a few yellow petals dropping from the ceiling to decorate their hair and shoulders. They have to admit, it’s kind of a look. Then they shake themselves a little bit and brush off the petals to grab the toothpaste manually.

 

Chara’s still asleep (or pretending to be) as Frisk eats breakfast, which today is leftover pancakes that were made a few days ago. They dump too much syrup on until the pancakes are dripping just the way they like it, and eat it faster than they probably should. They wash it down with water, because they’re out of orange juice. Toriel comes downstairs in a dressing-gown and bids them a sleepy good morning; They respond with a big, syrupy smile. It’s normal. It’s good.

 

Except they can’t stop thinking about their dream. Not the first part of it- not the part where  _ she _ had been there, and said all those horrible things to them, and called them by the wrong word, because she never,  _ ever _ said ‘them’, she always said something else… No. Not that part of the dream. That part was old hat. Frisk is used to it. It’s coming up on two years since they last saw their biological mother, and while they’re awake, they never spare her a thought. But she sometimes shows up in their dreams, maybe once every month or so. They’ve been able to keep it quiet from Chara until now, mostly because they don’t think Chara had really been paying attention. 

 

Which leads them to the second part of their dream, the part that they still can’t quite figure out. Chara. Had shown up. In their Place. They don’t know why they call it a ‘Place’, because it’s really more defined by the  _ absence _ of anything that places typically possess, like a floor, a sky, or any features whatsoever. They sometimes end up there after a particularly bad dream or when they’ve just been… They ended up there a lot, back in the Underground. But nobody else has ever been there before.  _ Chara _ has never been there before.

 

Frisk pushes the last piece of their pancake around their plate. It’s too soaked in syrup for even them to enjoy, but they don’t wanna stand up and clear their plate yet. Toriel looks up from her breakfast, which is oatmeal, and clears her throat quietly.

 

“Do you have any plans for today, my child?” she asks. Frisk thinks for a second, then shakes their head  _ no _ . They hadn’t really known what they were going to do today- summer homework probably, and if Chara woke up they might watch a movie. Toriel smiles. “That is good. Your friend Undyne called late last night when you were already in bed. She wished to let you know that she and Alphys and a few more of their friends are planning to hang out today, and that you are welcome to, as she said, ‘tag along’.” She takes a sip of her coffee as Frisk processes what she’s told them (it’s still very early in the morning). “So? Would you like to do that?”

 

[Yes!] Frisk signs enthusiastically, their fork clattering down onto their plate. [Very much! When are we meeting up?]

 

“Oh, they should be here any minute now,” says Toriel benignly. “When I told Undyne that you were asleep and could not give her an answer, she said something along the lines of ‘I know that dork will say yes, we’re coming over at nine’. Then she hung up.” She looks amused. 

 

[So I’d better get dressed, right?] Frisk says after a beat. Toriel nods.

 

“I think that would be wise.”

 

Frisk quickly rinses their plate off and puts it in the sink before running upstairs. They dig through their closet, which is kind of a mess, searching for just the right clothes. They’re not sure what Undyne and the other have planned, so they want their outfit to be versatile, but they also want to look cute, because that’s always important. Eventually they settle on a light blue-and-white striped t-shirt and a darker blue skirt, but with black leggings underneath and their scuffed up boots for shoes. They run a brush through their thick hair a few times and pronounce it passable, and they’re debating whether or not to add a barrette to keep their slightly too long bangs out of their eyes when a horn honks from outside. They can hear Undyne’s voice even from here.

 

“KID! HEY, FRISK! C’MON OUT! I KNOW YOU’RE AWAKE! SANS IS TEXTING YOUR MOM AND SHE SAYS YOU’RE AWAKE! GET OUT HERE!”

 

Frisk grins and decides to leave the barrette, clomping down the stairs and waving a quick goodbye to Toriel as they dash past the kitchen door. Papyrus’ bright red convertible is parked outside the house, and it’s overflowing with monsters. Mettaton is in the passenger seat and Papyrus himself is driving (not much of a surprise, since he’d never let anyone else touch his baby). Napstablook is floating low n between the two front row seats since they don’t need a seatbelt, and Undyne, Alphys, and Sans are squeezed into the back row. The whole setup looks incredibly cramped since Undyne, Mettaton, and Papyrus are all slightly larger than the average adult human, which was who the car was made for. 

 

“FRISK!” Undyne and Papyrus holler at the same time, both waving frantically. Papyrus even goes the extra mile and honks the horn again. Mettaton dramatically covers his ears, but still smiles at Frisk welcomingly. Alphys and Sans both give Frisk one handed waves, and Napstablook blinks at them.

 

[Hi guys!] Frisk signs, grinning. Then they falter. [Where can I sit?]

 

Undyne smacks herself in the forehead, groaning. “Ugh! I totally forgot about that!”

 

“They can sit on one o-of our laps, m-maybe?” suggests Alphys, but she doesn’t look too sure. “B-but I don’t know h-how safe that w-will be…”

 

“they can take my seat,” says Sans, looking up from his phone. “i’ll just meet you guys there.”

 

“A-are you sure?” Alphys asks, and he shrugs. 

 

“yeah, it’s no big deal. i know a shortcut.” Before anyone can say anything else, he’s gone. Frisk lets Undyne lift them up and plop them down where Sans had been sitting, and they quickly buckle themself in, remembering Papyrus’ driving style. For a second, they marvel at Sans’ casual use of magic. He does it  _ all the time _ , and he makes it look so easy! They should ask him about it sometime- but Toriel might get mad. Well, not mad. But the closest thing she can get.

 

Papyrus, as usual, floors it. Undyne lets out a whoop of excitement and Mettaton laughs. Napstablook and Alphys both look a little bit green. Frisk can see some of their human neighbors peeking out of their front doors, looking a little intimidated by all the monstrous commotion. 

 

“Okay, squirt!” Undyne shouts over the wind after a few minutes. “Here’s the deal! We’re going to the mall!” Frisk raises an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, the mall! We all need new clothes!”

 

[Why?]

 

“Uh, no reason!” say Undyne, flushing purple suddenly and clamming up. Frisk frowns, suspicious, and leans back in their seat. The wind on their face is very refreshing. It’s one of those hot, still days of summer where the air is slightly too humid and the sun is too bright. They’re grateful that Undyne didn’t have anything planned that involved being outside.

 

The mall parking lot is crowded with cars when they pull up, and it takes Papyrus a few minutes to find a spot. When he finally does and they’ve all piled out of the car, Sans suddenly appears, leaning on the hood. 

 

“took you guys long enough. i’m getting grey hairs.”

 

“You don’t  _ have _ any hair,” Mettaton points out, tossing his own synthetic bangs airily. Sans twitches a little bit. Frisk remembers that he thinks Mettaton is a little bit annoying, but he’ll never say it out loud. 

 

“Ugh, enough standing around!” says Undyne, fanning herself. “It’s too  _ hot _ . Let’s get inside already!”

 

Everyone agrees, and Papyrus locks the car. It only takes a few minutes to walk to the mall, but under the sun, and with Undyne grumbling about it being “no better than Hotland, ew”, it feels like forever. Even Napstablook is feeling the heat, floating lower and lower until they’re practically phasing through the asphalt. Sans and Papyrus are both sweating slightly, and Frisk can feel their hair drooping. Only Mettaton seems unaffected. The rush of cold air that hits them when they enter the mall is a huge relief. Frisk stares upwards, opening gawking at all the levels and the smooth white floors and the brightly colored stores. They almost  _ never _ got to go to a mall before they fell. This is a whole new experience for them.

 

The mall is mostly filled with humans, and almost all of them are staring at their group. Frisk supposes that they  _ do _ look a little bit odd- Half their party is bigger-than-human sized and two of them are skeletons. One is a ghost. As they walk further in, however, Frisk realizes that most of the stares are directed at  _ them _ specifically. 

 

They’re in an H&M dressing room, waiting for Undyne to try on some cool pants she found, when an older looking lady approaches them. She has two little children in tow.

 

“Excuse me,” she says quietly. “But are you alright?” Frisk looks at her, confused, and she hastens to elaborate. “I mean, do you need help?”

 

They shake their head slowly, frowning. The woman sighs.

 

“Honey, it’s okay, I can help you,” she says. “Where are your parents?” One of her kids looks over her shoulder at Frisk’s outfit curiously. 

 

[My mom is at home], signs Frisk, thoroughly perplexed now. [Wait, do you know sign language?]

 

“I can’t understand you,” the woman mutters. She looks a little annoyed. “Do you need me to get you out of here?”

 

_ Oh. _ Frisk shakes their head decisively. They’re not going anywhere.

 

“Frisk! I’m coming out soon!” Undyne calls, and the woman starts talking very fast and very quietly to Frisk.

 

“Listen, sweetie, I need you to trust me, okay? You don’t have to stay with them. We can take you home, to your  _ real _ family. Your  _ human family _ . Don’t be stupid! Make the right choice! Don’t worry, this will all be okay, just come with me you little-”

 

“Who are you?” 

 

The woman yelps and whips around. Undyne is standing there, her new pants in one hand, and the ghostly outline of one of her spears just visible in the other. Very much over six feet tall and clearly ripped, she cuts a very imposing figure. The woman’s kids slowly back up as their mother stutters something about “just making sure the kid is okay”. 

 

“Do you even know who you’re talking to?” Undyne says lowly. “I am  _ Undyne _ , of the  _ Royal Guard _ , directly trained by Asgore, the  _ King of All Monsters _ . And that ‘kid’ is Frisk, the official  _ Ambassador _ between our species’.” She clenches her fist and the barely-there spear fades like so much mist. “I’d show a little respect.”

 

The woman practically runs away, not even bothering with the formality of saying goodbye, and Undyne sighs heavily. 

 

“Sorry about that, kiddo,” she says, and Frisk shrugs.

 

[She was just trying to do what she thought was right. Even though it was wrong.]

 

“Heh. Yeah, I guess. Heaven knows I’ve been in that position once or twice.” Undyne starts walking towards the changing room exit, and Frisk follows her. “Still, I’m not a big fan of some of the humans in this town. I know Toriel wants us to live here for diplomatic reasons but… I dunno. Sorry for dumping that on you.”

 

[It’s fine], Frisk insists, and they don’t talk about the incident again for the rest of the shopping trip. They meet up again with the others outside the store and Alphys proudly shows off the new dress she got. Mettaton is already wearing his new boots and he proudly points out the headphones Napstablook bought (“They picked them out themself!”). Papyrus has what appears to be at least five new outfits and Sans has, predictably, bought nothing. 

 

“i’m just here ‘cos papyrus said he’d buy me lunch and undyne threatened to spear me if i didn’t show,” he says, shrugging, and Frisk nods. They understand.

 

“What about you, Frisk?” asks Papyrus suddenly. “What did you get?”

 

[I don’t have any money], Frisk says, embarrassed suddenly. They’re just a kid, after all. 

 

“This won’t do, Frisk-darling,” cries Mettaton, grabbing their hand. “Come on, I’ll buy you something. No, I insist,” he adds, cutting off whatever they had been about to sign one-handedly. 

 

He takes them into the most expensive store he can find that still sells children’s clothes, and tells Frisk to ‘go wild’. Dutifully, they stroll through the aisles, running their fingers over the different fabrics and forcing themself not to look at the price tags. Eventually, they pick out a single t-shirt, orange and red striped. Mettaton proclaims it gorgeous, and then insists that they pick out more things. They blink, surprised. They’ve never been asked to pick out  _ more things _ before, but they go and do it anyway. They know better than to argue with Mettaton, and besides, they  _ did _ see a really nice dress just a few minutes ago. 

 

When they all finally leave the mall, Frisk is carting a bag filled with new jeans, a nice, frilly dress, three t-shirts, and a new pair of shorts. They’re thrilled. This is definitely the best day that they can remember having in a long time. 

 

Papyrus drops them off at their house first, and they wave goodbye to everyone from their front porch. Some neighbors look out from between their blinds as the red convertible peels away from the curb in a screech of rubber. 

 

**What did I miss.**

 

_ Oh, good morning, sleepy head, _ says Frisk, surprised. They unlock their front door and step inside.  _ We went shopping. _

 

**Get anything good?**

 

_ Just some shirts and pants and stuff. Oh! This one is for you, _ Frisk exclaims, opening the bag and pulling out a green shirt. It’s striped with a darker, foresty green and there’s a little design of a flower on the breast pocket.  _ I saw it and thought of you. _

 

**…**

 

_ Chara? _

 

**You’re so sentimental, Frisk,** says Chara, but they sound a little choked up. 

  
_ You don’t have to thank me, _ Frisk assures them, and Chara doesn’t. But that’s alright. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just a short kind of in-between chapter to set up the arc for the rest of the story
> 
> and also to give frisk some nice times and good company because they deserve it!!!!!!!!!
> 
> it's 1:30 am honestly i do so much for yall. i stay up so late to get these daily updates. i love u guys


	4. a very merry unbirthday to you (to me?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *you tell a joke about two kids who played in a muddy flower garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER:
> 
> -discussion of some non-graphic child abuse  
> -discussion of a canonical suicide

Chara doesn’t understand Frisk at all. They don’t understand how Frisk is so nice all the time, so trusting, so willing to see the best in everyone, even Chara. They don’t understand why Frisk got them a present, when there is probably nobody on the planet, alive or dead, who deserves a present  _ less _ than Chara. But most of all, they don’t understand how Frisk  _ still _ hasn’t noticed that their friends are planning a surprise party for them.

 

It’s so painfully obvious that Chara can hardly keep from groaning out loud. The sudden ‘spur of the moment’ shopping trip that Frisk had told them about in detail. The way Toriel is suddenly on her phone  _ much _ more than usual- and not just texting Sans, either. No, Chara had caught a glimpse of the screen the other day. It was a groupchat. She’s definitely planning something.

 

And still, Frisk remains oblivious. They happily wear their new shorts and Chara’s new t-shirt, watching reruns of old cartoons on the TV, while in the next room Toriel is tapping away on her cell phone, and there’s some very conspicuous boxes from Amazon in the front hall closet. Chara literally cannot understand it. It’s incredible. It should be an X-File (they used to sneak downstairs at night when they were alive and on the surface and watch that show on Netflix. They kind of miss it). 

 

Last year, Frisk hadn’t even  _ had _ a birthday party. The day had come and gone without incident and about three weeks later, Toriel had wondered out loud when their birthday would be. Frisk had been surprised, and had told her that it had already passed. Apparently, they weren’t accustomed to it actually being  _ celebrated _ , or acknowledged in any way. They hadn’t even told Chara.

 

This year, evidently, is not going to be the same.

 

**So. New clothes,** says Chara nonchalantly, taking a sip of the tea Frisk had made for them.  **Any reason why?**

 

_ Um...No? _ replies Frisk. They take a bite of their cookie.  _ I think it was more of a ‘just ‘cause’ thing. Nothing important. _

 

**Hmm.** Chara resists the urge to roll their mental eyes. They’re not going to ruin this. It’s too hilarious.  **Okay.**

 

Toriel bustles into the kitchen, cell phone in one hand and her handbag over her shoulder. “My dear, I am going out to the store briefly. Nothing of importance. I am probably not even going to buy anything. Will you be alright to stay here by yourself?”

 

Chara flinches slightly at the ‘by yourself’ bit, because neither they nor Frisk is ever truly alone, and groans at the failed attempts at subtlety that make up the rest of the announcement. Frisk just nods once and accepts the kiss that Toriel gives them, then turns back to their cookie. When the door has clicked closed and they can hear the latch bolted (of course. Typical Toriel), Chara seriously contemplates yet again just spilling the secret. But they don’t. They really want to see just how blind Frisk can be.

 

**When’s your birthday again?** Nice. Subtle. Good opener. They give themselves a pat on the back and a round of mental applause.

 

_ Not important _ , says Frisk, hopping down from the kitchen chair and walking into the living room.  _ Let’s watch Star Wars. _

 

Two hours and sixteen minutes later, as they watch the credits finish rolling across the screen, Chara realizes that they may have just been tricked.

 

**You sidetracked me,** they grumble. They can’t believe that Frisk is better at being sneaky than they are. If they had any physical arms, they would be crossing them right now. 

 

_ I don’t know what you’re talking about, _ Frisk says innocently, going upstairs to their bedroom.  _ Did you not want to watch? _

 

**Don’t be ridiculous,** snaps Chara.  **Of course I damn well wanted to watch.**

 

_ Then what’s the problem? _ asks Frisk, flopping backwards onto their bed and opening up their book. It’s  _ Alice in Wonderland _ , and they like it a lot. 

 

**I- you- The problem!** exclaims Chara in exasperation.  **The problem! The problem is you don’t talk about your birthday!**

 

_ Neither do you, _ points out Frisk.  _ Hey, check this out. _ They point to a picture in their book of a smiling cat looking down at a little girl from a tree.  _ It’s like Sans. _

 

**And we’re Alice?** asks Chara dryly.

 

_ Duh.  _ Frisk turns some pages and points to another picture, this time of a dodo bird in a waistcoat commanding an assortment of animals (Alice included) to run around a rock.  _ That’s Papyrus. _

 

**I can see it,** says Chara, then they stop.  **Hey! You’re sidetracking me again!**

 

Frisk doesn’t even bother to reply this time, just goes back to the page they had been reading. The smiling Cheshire Cat leers down from the tree. Chara really  _ can _ see it’s resemblance to Sans. They don’t like it. 

 

**I’m serious, F,** they say.  **Stop avoiding the question!**

 

_ Well, I’m taking a nap, _ says Frisk, snapping the books shut and placing it on their nightstand.  _ Talk to you later. _

 

**What! Frisk. Frisk. Frisk Dreemurr. Wake up right now.** Frisk sits straight up in bed suddenly, their heart pounding.

 

_ WHAT did you just call me? _

 

Shit. Chara freezes. 

 

_ Chara. What did you just call me. _

 

**I… Uh.** They’re not sure what they’re supposed to say. Then they realize that Frisk is crying.  **Oh my god. Oh my god. Stop crying. Frisk! I won’t- I won’t say it again! It just slipped out!**

 

_ No, no, it’s… It’s okay, _ says Frisk, calming down slowly.  _ I just. It was unexpected. _

 

**I won’t say it again, if you don’t like it.**

 

Frisk closes their eyes and shakes their head once, a smile twitching their mouth upwards.  _ It’s okay. I like it. _

 

**Oh.**

 

_Yeah._ _I’m gonna take that nap now, okay?_

 

**Okay.**

 

Frisk lays back down and curls up into a little ‘c’ shape in one corner of their bed. Chara mentally slams their head against a wall and immediately goes to their Place.

 

“ **Okay, so, I got sidetracked again,** ” they tell the pretend-Flowey. They’re not sure why they’re talking to him again. Maybe they just really need to vent. “ **I mean, it was a productive sidetracking, but… they’re still avoiding the question. I already know the answer but STILL.** ” They lay down in the dusty dirt and tilt their head back to look at him upside down. It would crik their neck, if they had any nerves. “ **You’re very unhelpful, bro.** ”

 

The sepia sky curves above them, no clouds in sight save for two frozen in place around the mountain in the distance, like a painting. 

 

“ **I just wish I could… I don’t know. They need to talk to someone about what’s been bothering them,** ” Chara murmurs, only half talking to the flower now. “ **They SAVED me, you know. Back in the Underground. SAVED you, too. Why can’t I return the favor?** ” They prop themself up on their elbows and stare into the distance, towards the mountain. “ **They never said why they climbed Mt. Ebott. Never told me, never told you. Golly.** ” They flop back down. “ **I told** **_you_ ** **why I climbed it, didn’t I? To die, remember?** ” They close their eyes and laugh ruefully. “ **Funny how that worked out, isn’t it. Or maybe it’s not. I can’t tell anymore.** ”

 

They lie there in silence for a few more minutes until Chara sighs and pushes themself back to standing. 

 

“ **Well. It’s been real, Asriel.** ” Then they stick their hands deep in their pockets and start walking towards the mountain. They’re not in any hurry. Either they make it before Frisk wakes up, or they don’t. Either way, they’ll get to talk to them. 

 

The walk to the mountain is way shorter than it was last time. Maybe it’s because Frisk isn’t properly asleep yet, or because they purposefully let Chara in. Who’s to say. Chara certainly isn’t going to question it. They don’t even bother getting smacked with the branch this time. They just stand there, looking up at the mountain expectantly. After a few seconds the whole world shudders and the ground opens beneath their feet. 

 

They fall. 

 

They open their eyes to the blackness of Frisk’s Place and wait patiently; if Frisk is paying attention, they’ll know Chara is here. Sure enough, after a few minutes a silhouette emerges from the void. Frisk is wearing their old purple striped sweater, just as Chara is wearing their green and yellow one. They look at each other for a few seconds.

 

_ Hi. _

 

**Hi.**

 

_ What are you… doing here? _

 

**You didn’t answer my question.**

 

Neither of them open their mouths to speak out loud. Frisk never does, anyway, not even in dreams, so Chara has decided to get on their level in that regard. 

 

_ I don’t need to. You know the answer. When’s YOUR birthday? _

 

**Irrelevant.**

 

_ I disagree. _

 

**Fine.** Chara doesn’t even blink.  **I don’t know when my birthday is. My birth parents never told me. I gave Toriel and Asgore a made up date because I thought I had to. I don’t know how old I am now, and I don’t know how old I was when I died. I never will. Your turn.**

 

Frisk’s hands twitch nervously, and they glance off to one side.  _ I… My birthday isn’t important. My mom always told me I was a mistake, so it didn’t matter. I’ve never had a birthday party. It just… isn’t important. _

 

**Okay, you know that the entirety of what you just told me is bullshit, right? Bullshit that she told you. I may be dead Frisk, but even I can tell you that you’re important, and your birthday is important.**

 

_ You don’t have to say that, _ says Frisk, looking down.

 

**No, but I’m saying it anyway. What does that tell you?**

 

Frisk doesn’t answer. Chara doesn’t say anything else. Eventually, both of them end up sitting cross-legged on the ‘ground’ of the void, still facing each other, still silent. Then, Chara starts humming a little bit. It’s a familiar song, nameless and with no words. It’s been stuck in their head, playing in the back of their mind, since they fell into the Underground. They know it’s in Frisk’s head, too. 

 

_ What is that song, anyway? _ asks Frisk suddenly. Chara doesn’t answer for a second, choosing instead to focus on their sock. Then they look up.

 

**It was mine and Asriel’s favorite lullaby, when we were alive. Mom used to hum it to us to get us to fall back asleep when we woke up in the middle of the night. When Azzy had a nightmare or when I… yeah. Nightmares.**

 

_ Oh. _ Frisk bites their lip.  _ It was… playing in Waterfall. That statue… it had a music box inside. _

 

Chara nods slowly.  **Yeah. It was a memorial to Asriel. And to me, but my part got eroded away before you ever saw it. Dad charmed the music box. The piano puzzle attached to it… I don’t know what that is. I don’t know who built it.**

 

_ How do you know so much about it? _ Frisk asks. They tuck their knees into their chest. Chara shrugs one shoulder.

 

**I was aware, kind of. After my SOUL shattered and Asriel turned to dust… It was like I was in a million different places at once. There was a part of me in the throne room, and a part of me in the statue, and a part of me… part of me was still in my body.** Chara wrinkles up their nose in distaste.  **Coffins are really uncomfortable.** Frisk looks faintly horrified, and Chara realizes they may have said too much. Frisk has only been dead for a few seconds or minutes at a time before returning to their SAVE point, and they can’t hope to match the level of nonchalant casualness Chara has reached over years and years without a beating heart.  **Oops. Was that too much?**

 

_ A little. _

 

**Yikes. That got kind of morbid.** Chara berates themself internally for a few seconds. Frisk leans forward suddenly. 

 

_ Let’s make it not morbid, then.  _

 

**Uh...How?**

 

Frisk looks hesitant for a second, but then their trademark determination settles on their faces and they say,  _ Tell me something happy about Asriel and you. _

 

**Something** **_happy_ ** **?** Chara echoes, cocking their head to one side.  **Hmm. Oh! I’ve got one. So once, a few months after I fell, me and Asriel were hanging out right outside the castle. And we weren’t allowed to go very far without a chaperone, because Mom and Dad were super overprotective, so we were kinda just lazing around. I think I was telling Az a story about the sun. He loved hearing about the sun. And then suddenly, we see Dad come outside and start watering his flower garden.** Chara breaks out of the story for a second.  **That used to be outside, before the whole… golden flower thing happened. And he always grew tulips and roses, I remember. Anyway, he was watering his garden, and suddenly me and Az get an idea at the exact same time. And we look at each other. And we can each tell what we’re both thinking. So we smile, and we both jump up and we just** **_book_ ** **it, right for Dad and his watering can. We tackled him and he dropped the can and the water went** **_everywhere._ ** **It was so muddy! We were laughing and rolling around in the mud like puppies. Mom had to hire Woshua to come and clean us all off!** Chara laughs out loud at the memory. Frisk smiles.

 

_ That’s a nice story, _ they say.  _ You and Asriel sound like a good team.  _

 

**We were,** agrees Chara.  **We really were.** They catch themself sounding a little wistful and try to  shake the thoughts out of their head.  **Having siblings is like that, you know? Partners in crime. Sometimes you hate each other. But mostly…**

 

_ Mostly? _ Frisk prompts after a few seconds of Chara not saying anything.

 

**Mostly… you’d die for each other.**

 

Frisk doesn’t reply for a long time. Chara sighs internally. Too morbid again. They really need to get a grip on that. But the irony had almost been worth the awkwardness. The minutes drag by. Chara feels like they should fill the silence, but they don’t have anything to say. Frisk fidgets, twisting their fingers together and apart again and again, like they’re playing Cat’s Cradle with invisible string. Then, finally, they raise their head and meet Chara’s eyes, brown to red, the living looking at the dead.

 

_ I guess that makes us siblings, then, _ they say, and raise their chin defiantly, like they’re daring Chara to challenge them. Chara doesn’t. They can feel something swelling up in their chest like a balloon, like bubblegum, like soap. Their mouth twitches up into a real, genuine smile, pushing further than their naturally upturned lips usually go. Their eyes crinkle up and something hot slides down their cheeks, but they’re also laughing, incongruously. Is this what Frisk felt like earlier, when Chara gave them their family name? It must be. They can’t imagine what else it could have been. Frisk is laughing too, and suddenly, Chara is certain of one beautiful, shining thing:

  
Everything is going to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [talks about how im striving for daily updates last chapter] [immediately completely fails at making daily updates] [feels like garbage]
> 
> anyway! i had a lot of fun writing this chapter bc writing chara's pov is really fun and talking about chara and asriel is ALSO really fun lmao 
> 
> comment any thoughts bc i really wanna know how people reacted to this one


	5. how can you even be this oblivious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU LIL BEAN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohmygosh im so sorry im so sorry im so terrible i didnt update for nearly two weeks im SORRY we took an unexpected trip to dc and then philly halfway thru christmas break and i didnt have my laptop and then! i wen back to school! and im DYING please HELP ME...im actually neglecting my math hw now to post this
> 
> anyway continue reading. this chapter is double-length as an apology

Frisk’s birthday dawns sunny and clear. As they crack open their eyes, they can hear the radio downstairs in the kitchen cheerfully announcing that there will be a high of 82 degrees today, and no clouds. Light streams in from the window. They check their phone. Two texts from MK.

 

**_From: Mega Kool:_ ** Haha so today is the big day right

 

**_From: Mega Kool:_ ** Whoops nevermind forget you saw this

 

Raising an eyebrow, Frisk decides to ignore the whole thing. MK probably just texted the wrong person. It happens to them a lot. From inside their head, they can hear a long, rattling sigh from Chara, which they also blatantly ignore. They know it’s their birthday; After that talk they had with Chara a few days ago, how could they forget? But they really aren’t expecting much. They can’t  _ let _ themself expect much. They don’t want to be let down. Again.

 

They pad downstairs in just their socks and pjs (their favorite ones, with little cats and dogs all over them) and peek into the kitchen. No Toriel, just a note on the counter. They try not to feel disappointed as they pick it up, because there’s  _ nothing _ to be disappointed about.

 

_ Hello Frisk, _ they read.  _ I had to go out early on an errand. I am sorry you had to wake up to an empty house! I will be home soon, do not worry. Love, Toriel. P.S. Check the oven if you are hungry. There is a surprise! Happy Birthday. _

 

Frisk dutifully walks over to the oven, a little confused, and opens it. Inside is a pie. Not just any pie, either- this is a butterscotch-cinnamon pie, cooked with fire magic, golden brown and a little intimidating in size. Frisk tears up a tiny bit. They haven’t had this pie in… forever. Not since their battle with Asgore. Toriel hasn’t made it in nearly two years. It’s something that they had both left behind in the Underground, a memory of things now behind them. 

 

Now it seems more like a milestone, marking the future stretching out in front of them.

 

**Aw. That’s sweet,** says Chara flatly.  **What a nice thing she did for your birthday.** They hesitate for a second like they want to say something else, but then don’t. Frisk ignores their weird behavior. It’s been happening a lot recently, and Frisk doesn’t blame them; Chara has never done well with heavy emotions, and that birthday talk they had was  _ definitely _ a little hard to shoulder.

 

They cut themself a slice of the pie (not too big; don’t want to be greedy) and sit down at the table to eat it. It’s even better than they remember. They only eat about half of the slice themself, then turn over control to Chara. 

 

**What are you doing?** Chara asks, dumbfounded, as they find themself holding the fork instead of Frisk.  **This is** **_your_ ** **birthday pie.**

 

Frisk shrugs the shoulder they still have control of.  _ Can’t finish it. And it doesn’t seem fair to eat the whole thing with you right here, not getting any. _

 

Chara huffs.  **It’s your** **_birthday_ ** **, F. You’re allowed to do stuff like that. I think.** Still, they take a bite of the pie anyway, because they’re too smart not to take food when it’s offered to them. They want to cry when they taste it, because it reminds them so strongly of other times, but they don’t. They’re much too cool for that, and also Frisk’s eyes aren’t theirs to command right now. So instead, they just finish the pie.

 

For about a minute, Frisk just sits, unsure of what they’re supposed to do now. They don’t have any plans for today, and they don’t know when Toriel will be home. From the wrong-number text they got from MK earlier, they assume that their friend is busy today, too. Suddenly, they jump as their phone buzzes loudly. Incoming text from… Sans?

 

**_From: skeleFUN:_ ** sup kid u wanna hang w/ me  & pap 2day

 

**_From: paci-frisk:_ ** Uh sure ! ! i’m not really doing anything today anyway :)

 

**_From: skeleFUN:_ ** nice cmon over whenever u want (soon tho)

 

**_From: skeleFUN:_ ** you should come over soon is what im saying. soon would be good

 

**_From: paci-frisk:_ ** ok ?? be right over

 

Frisk frowns at their phone. It’s not really like Sans to be so insistent about things. Usually, he couldn’t care less about… well,  _ anything _ . But today is different, for whatever reason. In the back of their head, Chara groans. Loudly.

 

_ Something wrong? _ Frisk asks, as they grab their sneakers from the front hall and lace them up.

 

**...What?** Chara replies after an unnecessarily long pause.

 

_ You just. Groaned, _ says Frisk, turning out the lights in the kitchen and living room.  _ Like you were annoyed about something. _ They go into the garage and pull out their bike, a gift from Toriel over the holidays. It’s blue. 

 

**No, I didn’t,** Chara snaps. If they had arms, they’d be crossing them, Frisk thinks.  **You’re imagining things.**

 

Frisk rolls their eyes.  _ Whatever. _ They open the garage door and walk out into the sunlight, squinting a little bit. Not a cloud in the sky. The grass of all the lawns on the street is a brilliant green. They can see one of their human neighbors watering their lawn just down the street. The neighbor looks at them. Frisk waves. The neighbor- a man in maybe his mid-fifties, his only housemate his wife- stares at them for a second, then gives them a slow nod. Frisk grins. They’re happy that the neighbors on the block are starting to warm up to them and their family, albeit slowly. Word must have finally gotten around about Frisk’s position as ambassador (more symbolic than anything else) and Toriel’s former position as Queen. 

 

**Pft. Yeah. Nothing gets a human’s attention like power,** mutters Chara.  **It’s all we care about.**

 

Frisk almost corrects them. They almost make a ‘not  _ all _ humans’ statement. But then they realize the pronoun that Chara had used.  _ We. _ And they decide that it is a step in the right direction. 

 

They kick off from the curb and start pedaling, the sun beating down on the back of their neck and the long, curving suburban street stretching before them, lined with gleaming cars and old trees. They ride in the middle of the road, because their street is peaceful enough that cars hardly ever go down it, and never moving fast. They see some more humans along the way and they smile at each and every one of them, but never get more than a cursory glance or a tiny nod back. 

 

As they move out of their (human) neighborhood, the scenery changes. The houses get stranger, the streets more twisted and jumbled. Frisk passes by Muffet’s house, a tall, brilliant purple monstrosity of at least four precarious and gravity-defying stories. They wave to her in her window one handed and she gives them a three-handed wave back. They keep riding. These streets are lined not with only with cars, but with motorcycles and electric scooters of all colors, plus a few broomsticks and even (Frisk’s favorite) a small rocketship. They pedal down the main street of the town, dubbed ‘The Core’ by the monsters and just ‘Main Street’ to the humans, then turn right into what’s come to be known as the Waterfall district, since it’s right up against the river that runs through the town. Most of the monsters that lived in Waterfall live there now. They pass by Undyne, Napstablook, and Mettaton’s houses, expecting to see someone, but the windows are all dark. 

 

_ Weird. _

 

They turn onto Sans and Papyrus’ street in the New Snowdin section of town and notice that MK’s house is empty, too. 

 

_ Where is everyone? Their cars are all in their driveways. What’s going on?  _  they wonder. Chara mutters something that Frisk doesn’t quite catch.  _ What was that? _

 

**I said ‘look out for that pothole’,** says Chara quickly. Frisk purses their lips, doubtful, but decides not to press it. Chara’s weird sometimes. 

 

Papyrus and Sans’ house, thankfully, has the living room lights on.  _ At least  _ they’re _ home, _ thinks Frisk gratefully, pulling smoothly into the driveway next to Papyrus’ car (and Sans’ rusty green bike, leaning up against the side of the house like he’s just begging for someone to steal it. Nobody ever does). 

 

_ Hey, are you okay? _ Frisk says to Chara suddenly. 

 

**What yeah I’m totally fine,** Chara replies quickly.  **Why- why do you- why are you asking?**

 

_ Uh. It’s just that… you always get kinda weird around Sans. For, like, obvious reasons, _ explains Frisk.  _ If you’re not up to it right now, we can still cancel. _ They make this offer pretty much every time they hang out with Sans, and it always seems necessary. Chara nearly never accepts.

 

**What?! No! Frisk, you have to hang out with them today!** Chara exclaims.  **I mean. Um. I don’t care.**

 

_ Something’s up with you, _ says Frisk suspiciously, hesitating in front of the door.  _ You’re acting really weird. Even for you. _

 

**I’m NOT.**

 

_ You ARE. _

 

**Stop arguing with me! We’re not nine years old!**

 

Frisk rolls their eyes.  _ Okay. That’s true.  _ They raise their hand and knock on the front door to the house. It immediately swings open and suddenly there’s a large burst of confetti in their face and a lot of noise in their ears.

 

“SURPRISE!!”

 

Frisk might have a lot of practice being quiet, but even they can’t stop the small yelp that escapes them. They press a hand to their chest. Their heart is racing. There’s something soft brushing their cheek. It doesn’t feel like confetti. They turn their head and are greeted with bright yellow.

 

“Uh, Frisk?” says Undyne’s voice from somewhere to their left. “You okay?”

 

Frisk tries to sign a reply to her, but there’s something in the way. They realize with a start of embarrassment that their entire body is wrapped in protective leaves and golden flowers. Face flushing, they maneuver one hand free and wave their magic away. Then they finally turn to properly look at the room at large. 

 

It’s packed with monsters- and a few human kids that they recognize from school. Undyne and Alphys, both of the skeletons, Toriel  _ and _ Asgore (on different sides of the room), MK, Mettaton, Blook… They even spy some Whimsuns and Froggits in the corner by the punch.

 

_ Wait. Punch? _

 

“Surprise! It’s a party! For you!” cries MK, jumping excitedly up and down. “Happy birthday, Frisk!”

 

**Ohthankgod,** says Chara, like they’re letting out a huge breath.  **It was so hard to keep that a secret.**

 

_ You knew about this?  _ Frisk nearly hisses.  _ How could you possibly have known about this?! We’re in the same head! _

 

**Maybe I’m just more perceptive than you,** Chara replies smugly.  **I’m older, after all.**

 

_ Only in a sense, _ points out Frisk.

 

“Frisk, child?” says Toriel, concerned. Frisk realizes that they’ve been standing in total stillness for at least twenty seconds, just staring out in front of them. “Is this too much?” She looks so worried, and Frisk is reminded of a long time ago, back when they first met her, and of the words  _ It was irresponsible of me to try to surprise you like this. _ They try to smile at her reassuringly.

 

[It’s okay], they sign. [I was just startled]. She looks a little less stressed. Undyne lets out a whoop, which Papyrus joins in on nearly instantly.

 

“Now that the birthday kid is here, we can finally get this party  _ going! _ ” she yells. There’s another cheer from the assembled monsters and someone turns on some music. Frisk is suddenly swamped in monsters wishing them a happy birthday, or giving them wrapped gifts, or just wanting to stand near them. They’re starting to feel overwhelmed when, in an instant, there’s a huge hand on their shoulder, nearly making their knees buckle from the weight alone. 

 

“Okay,” booms Asgore from high above their head. “I understand that you all wish to congratulate Frisk, but let’s give them a little space.”

 

“King Asgore!” MK squeaks, hopping back a step. The rest of the crowd looks similarly ashamed. The human kids in particular look especially intimidated, even though Frisk has told them before that Asgore is really a big softie. They smile up at him gratefully as he takes the gifts from them and places them on a nearby table.

 

[Thanks, Asgore]. 

 

“No trouble,” he says kindly. “I know crowds can be stressful.” He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something more, but then closes it with a snap, his eyes fixed on something on Frisk’s other side. “Um. There appears to be- There is something I… Oh. Okay. Hello, Toriel.”

 

“Hello, Asgore,” Toriel says coldly. It’s been two years since they reunited, but she still carries a grudge against him. Frisk can understand why. Everyone can. Six SOULs are no small matter. “And how are you, Frisk?” Her tone is much nicer as she addresses them. Frisk smiles at her.

 

[Good. I’ve never had a birthday party before]. 

 

Toriel’s eyes go sad for a moment. “Ah. You will probably not believe this, but that is the second time someone has said that to me.” She looks down at her hands for a second and when she looks back at them, she is her usual, smiling self. “Now, let’s not loiter in the doorway of your own party, my child! There are snacks in the kitchen if you are hungry, and in a while we will open presents.”

 

Frisk nods once and begins winding their way deeper into the house. All of Sans and Papyrus’ furniture is pushed up against the walls, making a big empty space in the living room. The stairs that lead up to the second floor are blocked by a single piece of string with a post-it stuck to it. Frisk moves closer to read it. It just says ‘nope’ in Sans’ handwriting. 

 

They wander into the kitchen. Chara is suspiciously quiet. They’re probably just gloating still, so Frisk doesn’t pay them any mind. The counters of the kitchen are covered in assorted snack food, and there’s a few kids from their class hanging out by the sink.

 

“Why is it so  _ tall _ ?!” cries one, a human girl from Frisk’s homeroom. The boy next to her shrugs helplessly. 

 

Frisk isn’t particularly hungry, since they had some pie just a little while ago, but eating junk food just kinda seems like the thing you’re  _ supposed _ to do at a party, so they pile up a plate with some chips and pretzels and Goldfish and grab a can of ginger ale from the cooler by the fridge. Then they go back out into the living room, skirt around the edges of the crowd, and tuck themself onto the stairs, just in front of the ‘nope’ sign. 

 

They’ve almost finished with their ginger ale when someone finds them.

 

“kinda weird just sulking back here at your own party, kiddo.”

 

They roll their eyes and put down their can. [Hey Sans]. 

 

“you not having fun or somethin’?” he asks, leaning back against the steps that he’s suddenly appeared on. “we can call it off if you want.”

 

[No, it’s fine], insists Frisk. [I just… wasn’t really expecting it].

 

“that’s kinda the point of a surprise party, you know,” he points out. They elbow him and he laughs.

 

[You know what I meant]. 

 

“not really, actually. i thought we were being  _ super _ obvious.” He looks at them, frowning slightly. “you really didn’t know?”

 

[Nope. I guess I’m kind of oblivious]. They shrug and grin self-deprecatingly. He shakes his head at them in what appears to be mild disbelief, then perks up.

 

“oh, yeah, i remembered why i came over here. tori wants you. it’s time for presents.” Frisk barely has time to give him a slightly panicked look before he’s pulling them to their feet. “c’mon kiddo, don’t you wanna see what you got?”

 

**Oh, nice,** Chara says, reentering the conversation.  **Material possessions. My favorite.**

 

Frisk doesn’t reply directly, too busy trying to dodge all the people in the room as Sans pulls them along by one hand. There’s a  _ lot _ of people here. They didn’t even know this house could hold so many people. 

 

**Sans and Pap are probably using some kind of magic to make the place bigger on the inside,** says Chara helpfully.

 

_ Like in  _ Harry Potter _? _ Frisk asks.

 

**If you like,** Chara sniffs.

 

_ Monster parties are so elaborate, _ says Frisk in wonder. All of this trouble- for them! They can hardly believe it.

 

Much too quickly, Sans finds the center of the crowd and, subsequently, Toriel. She’s surrounded by presents. Big ones, small ones, ones that appear utterly mundane and still more that seem like they’re barely hanging onto the edge of reality, flickering and shimmering, undoubtedly magical. Toriel sees them and claps her hands a few times. Undyne turns down the music. 

 

“Present time!” Papyrus says, but of course, he’s Papyrus, so the entire room hears him. Everyone quiets down quickly. Frisk feels a lead weight settle in their gut.

 

_ Oh no. _

 

**What?**

 

_ I can’t do this. Everyone’s looking at me. I can’t do it. _

 

**But you know everyone here. They’re your friends!**

 

_ I know, it’s just… it’s so  _ much. They don’t know how else to describe it. Everyone’s eyes on them, the prospect of sitting here for at least an hour and unwrapping everything in full view of the whole party, thanking every single person… their throat feels tight.

 

**Hey. Hey hey hey,** says Chara.  **Do you want me to do it?**

 

_Please,_ Frisk replies, not even hesitating. _Just. Pretend you’re me._ _Please._

 

**No problemo.** The transition is smooth and nearly unnoticeable. To the casual observer it simply appears that Frisk’s shoulders straighten out a bit and that their lips turn up a little more at the corners. 

 

The room is not just full of casual observers, but Chara doesn’t realize it.

 

They sit in the middle of all the fuss and pomp and open every single present, thanking the giver in sign language profusely every single time. A soccer ball from a girl at school. A heavy, gilded, multi-paneled box from Asgore filled with seed packets and bronze trowels. A friendship bracelet making kit from Undyne (as well an already made bracelet with a cleverly concealed knife that Toriel immediately confiscates, much to Chara’s chagrin). A bunch of charms for their cell phone from MK (“You can also put them on a bracelet, yo!”), and a custom-made chemistry kit from Alphys.

 

“It’s… um… a l-little more ex-explosive than the r-regular k-kind,” she says to them, quietly. Toriel doesn’t hear. Chara grins widely. 

 

An enormous cookbook from Papyrus. Several potions and tiny household ‘good luck totems’ from the lesser monsters, which Chara accepts gratefully. It won’t cost any of Frisk’s magic to use these, and they’re really cute as a bonus. 

 

Sans’ ‘gift’ is a gift card for Target and a note that says ‘i.o.u’. Chara almost gets annoyed, but then they fall back on their trusty motto when in control of the body: WWFD (What Would Frisk Do). So they smile and thank him just the same as everyone else. He winks. 

 

Mettaton gets them an incredibly expensive-looking makeup palette (“I think you’re old enough, darling”) and Napstablook gifts them a mix CD.

 

“It’s okay if you don’t………………..like it……………..” they murmur. Not even Chara has it in them to break a heart like that.

 

[ **I love it already** ], they sign, and Blook cheers a little bit. 

 

It takes a long,  _ long  _ time, but finally they get to the very last present. 

 

“That one is from me,” Toriel tells them. Chara reminds themself to not be weird about being so close to her- their  _ mom _ \- but it’s hard to act natural under these circumstances. Still, they suck it up and reach for the last gift. It’s soft, so they know it’s clothing of some kind. They take their time unwrapping it, piece by piece, and then hold it up to see. It’s a sweater, which they were kind of expecting, but it’s also remarkable in one crucial sense: it isn’t striped. It’s light-ish navy-ish color, with paler blue designs around the cuffs and neckline, and the Delta Rune over the left side of the chest in pale purple. Chara looks up at Toriel in wonder, and inside their head, Frisk is doing the same.

 

“You are not exactly a child anymore, dear,” Toriel says. “You have stuck with tradition for a bit longer than necessary, I feel.” She looks nervous. “Is it alright? Do you like it?” Instead of using words, Chara launches Frisk’s body forward and hugs her waist tightly. She chuckles. “Well, alright then.”

 

There’s another beat of silence and then Undyne hollers, “LET THEM EAT CAKE!” The ensuing rush to the kitchen is more than enough cover for Chara to subtly wipe the tears from their eyes and give Frisk back control.

 

_ Thank you for doing that. At least I don’t have to do anything else. _

 

**Told you, ‘s no problem,** Chara mutters. Frisk trails after everyone else to see the candles get lit.  **You know you have to, like, blow the candles out, right?**

 

_ What. _

 

“Frisk!” calls Papyrus. “Get in here!”

 

_ You didn’t tell me about this part!! _

 

**I assumed you knew!!**

 

_ How was I supposed to know?! _

 

**DO YOU LIVE UNDER A ROCK!?**

 

_ NO, BUT YOU DID. _

 

They barely get warning before the loud, slightly off-key chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ hits them as they walk in the kitchen door. They wait it out, suffering quietly, until the noise finally dies down.

 

“Alright, Frisk, make a wish!” says MK excitedly. Everyone watches in anticipation. Frisk stares down at the giant cake (and seriously, when had Toriel even had time to make this?) with the big blue number 14 on the icing. The candles are very bright in the darkness of the room. Someone must have turned off the lights. 

 

**What are you going to wish for?**

 

_ Can’t tell you, _ says Frisk, and blows out the flames. There’s a smattering of applause and then someone moves in to cut the cake and dish out pieces. Frisk, being the birthday kid, gets first pick of the slices. They choose a medium-ish piece and scuttle away back to their corner of the steps. 

 

**Are you unhappy?** asks Chara some time later, when the cake is long gone and some of the guests have started to drift away home. 

 

_ What? No. Do I seem that way? _

 

**A little bit. You seem like you didn’t really want all this, and you’re just rolling with it because you don’t want to offend anyone,** says Chara bluntly.

 

_ Oh. That’s not it at all. I’m  _ really _ happy, actually. I’m so happy that I don’t even know what to do with myself.  _

 

**Ah,** Chara says in sudden understanding.  **I get it. That’s what my first party was like, too.**

 

_ Really? _

 

**Uh-huh. It’s kind of a nice feeling, isn’t it?**

 

Frisk curls up into a slightly smaller ball on the steps, tucking their knees in tight to their chest, watching the party wind down with a small smile. 

  
_ Yeah. It is. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah frisk's 14 in this fic i tried to figure out a way to avoid mentioning their age to try and keep from stepping on anyone's headcanons but.. idk . i gave up trying to talk around it
> 
> again, im so sorry for the lack of updates!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! pls forgive me

**Author's Note:**

> i said i'd be back with another one and here i am! this should be around the same length as lswwcd and updates will also be roughly as regular, esp cos im on winter break right now and have way more time to write. however, if i'm not done by the time break is over, i can't guarantee anything cos of midterms :/
> 
> also i just watched force awakens so that's why i felt the Need to put star wars into this chapter........and then decided to turn it into a metaphor/plot device lmao
> 
> anyway! thanks for reading
> 
> im ciphereye.tumblr.com if you wanna chill/talk/whatever


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